The Dancer and the Businessman
by Anime1Manga2Lover3
Summary: Kyoya falls asleep at his desk, and his wife doesn't want to wake him. One-shot. Kyoya/OC


The clock on the bedside table read 2:59 AM in luminous green letters. Araya lay on her side, gazing at the blinking colon, counting the seconds until three. The numbers changed to a three and two zeros, and she sat up, flicking the lamp on as she did so. The light illuminated her tired face, the dark circles underneath her eyes thrown into sharp relief, the face of a thirty year old put through too much stress.

She pushed back the covers and stood, her feet protesting against the shock of the cold hardwood floor. Silently, she crept out the door, down the hall, and outside the door of the study. The light was on, but she didn't hear the sounds of a keyboard. She cautiously turned the handle and pushed open the door, peering inside.

Kyoya was slumped over his desk, his glasses askew, computer on in front of him, a small black notebook to his side. Araya sighed at his position, remembering the previous night's conversation.

"Kyoya, you should get some rest."

"I don't have time to sleep. I've got to keep working. You should know this by now." Kyoya's glasses flashed in annoyance.

"You'll work better if you get some rest," Araya insisted.

"That may be true for someone with a job that entails nothing more than moving in time to music, but for someone with a real career, there is not a moment to waste."

Araya turned and left his study, going downstairs to her dance studio. That comment on dancing had stung, although she would never show that to him. He, the businessman, would never understand the work a ballet dancer put into perfecting her art, the hours of stretching and doing the same move over and over again. No, his world was one of numbers, computer screens, and diplomacy.

She had been raised in such an environment, one where the company came first, no matter what. But as the youngest daughter, she had been given more freedom than her older brothers to do what she wanted.

She had taken to ballet almost at once, loving the way she matched her movements to the music. From age four, she had taken lessons from Japan's finest dancers, eventually becoming famous for her solo dances. She had lived her dream, until five years ago, when Kyoya had asked her father for her hand in marriage.

It was a smart move on his part, for her father was a fast-rising clothing designer. Six months after they had married, his clothes were being sold in stores across Japan and the US.

Araya had tried to ignore Kyoya once she realized that he had no romantic interest in her. It was an understanding between them that there was nothing between them besides pure, cold business. Still, she had started feeling strange things for him. When he genuinely smiled or just relaxed, both unusual, she couldn't help but want to make him stay like that, with a contented look on his face.

But Kyoya was business business business, working himself to the bone.

Araya came out of her reverie and came closer to Kyoya, looking down on his sleeping form. She didn't want to wake him, for he would surely be furious. What was it his friends had called him? The low blood pressure demon lord? Something of that nature, anyway. But that position couldn't be comfortable. She dithered, wondering what to do.

Finally deciding on a course of action, Araya tugged Kyoya's rolling chair back, one hand on his chest to keep him from falling. She got him right next to the couch set against the wall and pulled him onto it, laying him down with his head on the low arm. Then, she went back to the bedroom and tugged the quilt of the bed and hauled it back to the study. This she placed on top of Kyoya, reaching over him to tuck it between his side and the back of the couch.

Sudden arms around her waist surprised Araya. She lost her balance as she was pulled down, underneath the covers, pinned against her husband. What the- she thought, her mind in turmoil.

"Mmm." Kyoya buried his face into her hair, squeezing her close to him.

Araya was slightly panicked now. The effect this close proximity was having on her didn't really help her thought processes much. She was acutely aware of Kyoya's breath on her head, the slow rise and fall of his chest, the heat that she could feel coming off of him, the pressure of his arms going around her…

"Araya."

The simple word, coming from his mouth, had such meaning that all of Araya's other thoughts froze. He had called her Miss Kiho, Kiho, annoying, that girl. But never, ever, had he called her by her first name.

"Kyoya?" she whispered, scared that she would break the spell that seemed to be in the air.

No response. He had spoken her name in his sleep.

At least I'm actually in his dream. Maybe… he likes me? God, I sound like a teenage girl again. In fact, this entire thing sounds like something out of a fanfiction written by some teenage girl…

Araya's eyes began to close as she became accustomed to the new feeling of being in her husband's arms. Pushing the thoughts of awkward questions the next morning far from her consciousness, she concentrated instead on the feeling of his body against hers, searing it into her memory for eternity.

When Kyoya awoke, he realized that the feeling of holding someone had not faded, despite the dream being over. He really was cradling Araya, and his face was really pressed into her hair, the smell of cinnamon filling his nose. He wondered why she was there. Maybe, just maybe, she had fallen asleep next to him on purpose.

No, she wouldn't do that. She was much too focused on her dancing to deal with someone as business-like as him. Their marriage was one forged not out of love, but out of practicality and strategic gains.

It would never be any more than that.


End file.
